She swallowed.
“And then the lady picked up her phone,” Zoe said. “Off the shelf. And she turned it around. To her face.”
“And?”
“And then she started yelling,” Zoe said. “Oh my God. Are you kidding me. Into the phone. Like she was making a video.”
I knelt there on the floor of the bakery section.
Holding my daughter’s hands.
“She knocked it over,” I said. “On purpose.”
“On purpose,” Zoe said.
“And she was filming.”
“She was filming,” Zoe said. “The whole time. She put it on the shelf first. Before she pushed. So it would get the crash.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Mom,” she said. “Henry didn’t do anything. He was on the ladder. He wasn’t even touching the cart. He didn’t do anything.”
I pulled my daughter into my arms.
Right there. In front of the bagels.
“I know, baby,” I said. “I know.”
